POEM - The Bread Drawer

She told me I buy things

That are very different

From when she is all alone

Walking the rows of the Wal-Mart

Intent on covering the basics

My purchases are frivolous

Often sweet and fluffy

And frequently cream filled

There are also a lot more marshmallows

Whenever you come along

I don't buy marshmallows

She tells me in that tone

The one that suggests sternly

I should know why already

They remind me of your mother

And I'm sure she will know

Somehow. Subconsciously.

That we have those things  

And show up at our door

And I just can't handle her right now

As I hear this my mind wanders

And I remember a story

One I feel I must tell right away

Something to change the mood

I first thrust my nose against the bag

And sniff deeply of the comforting scent

It carries me back to my youth

And visiting grandma in California

Her house was always wonderful

The perfect grandma’s house

Toys and games in almost every closet

A playhouse in the backyard

The cool basement under the washroom

And grandpa’s office up front

Full of typewriters and National Geographics

This specific memory relates to the kitchen

And a wonderful drawer under the toaster

It was known as the bread drawer

But it was so much more

That drawer had bread it is true

But it usually also held marshmallows

And the aroma of bread and sweet

Entered the olfactory like an old friend

Sat down and settled in

Wafting along on a delightful visit

That you hoped would never end

And that is why the marshmallows come along

I sniff the bag once again

Wallow in the memory a moment more

As a blissful look settles on my face